Voidfire: Weltenbrand, #2

By Robert Dreyer

Six years after the war of 2114, conflict remains ever present in the Solar system. The Great Powers of Earth are still locked in an eternal conflict for resources and influence. Alliances shift as circumstances demand. Now one nation seeks to end the Great Game with a stunning revelation - India has a working faster-than-light drive. But for the Indian government, the announcement of a multi-national expedition to Alpha Centauri has a more sinister purpose: a probe has returned images of an artificial structure, deep inside the system. And they are determined to keep this information secret - even if it means killing one of their own. 

Leading the way into the unknown are Major Allie Thomas and the crew of the US Space Force cruiser Seattle. Light years away from home, the hero of the war of 2114 must face her greatest challenge: a battle against an mysterious foe in which only victory offers a way home. On Earth, Chinese Special Agent Yao Li has the most delicate and dangerous assignment of her career: A race to solve a political murder at the highest level, against an enemy who is always one step ahead - and ready to kill to achieve his goals. The stakes of the Great Game have never been higher... 

Voidfire is the second book in the Weltenbrand series, a 100,000 word space opera classic about war and intrigue in the far future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Dreyer
• Release date: Dec 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519943897

Book preview

Part I: A Bolt From The Blue

Near Alpha Centauri B Mitra-Threshold

Alpha Centauri System

August 24, 2115

Given the historic importance of the moment, most observers would no doubt have found the whole affair somewhat underwhelming. There was little to announce that that the probe had entered the system far faster than the speed of light. The small robotic spacecraft simply returned to normal existence from one moment to the next. The probe itself, of course, lacked the faculties to properly appreciate the value of the mission it had been sent on. It did notice, but didn't care, that it was more than a month behind schedule. It merely followed the instructions in its memory core. The same programming now directed it to bring the remaining systems on line. The computer onboard the probe noted without surprise or anger that a number of things had failed during its voyage, but it had been designed to be robust in its handling of unexpected errors. If a system did not work, it was shut down, the error logged and the next issue on the agenda begun. Chained as it was by its programs, the computer nonetheless noted that its primary mission objective was still possible. The huge antenna and the powerful transmitter were undamaged and fully operational.

Its system check complete, the small probe turned to its next task, scanning the heavens around for stars it could recognize. Knowing exactly where it was was absolutely paramount to its mission, not so much because of the capabilities of its sensors but because the target of its transmission was so very far away. The code in its internal memory was very specific about that. The error of less than a thousandth of a degree in the transmission would ensure its message never got its recipient, instead missing the tiny planet by millions of kilometers. Finally, it found half a dozen stars it could recognize with reasonable accuracy, checking them against a database of known pulsar stars, their periodic outbursts of radiation so well known that they had been selected to serve as the probe's interstellar lighthouses. Firing a small number of cold-gas thrusters, it turned itself around and unfolded the large antenna it carried and pointed it at yet another star. From its perspective, it looked just like any other star. A bog standard, average sun, orbited by the only known planet of its kind. The message it was about to send would spend years just crossing the vast gulf of space. The probe did not care what it would do to the world of its creators. It had a mission to fulfill.

Having found its target, it began powering up its very modest suit of sensors. The lack of any powerful scientific instruments was not so much caused by a lack of interest on the part of the probe's creators as it was a necessity of its mission. The most important part was to get the message home. Given the distances involved, that required a very powerful transmitter, which in turn required a lot of energy and weight. Despite the fact that it had been sent to explore this alien star, the probe was not particularly well equipped to do so. The probe, of course, did not feel self-conscious about that. It pointed the sensors that had survived the rigors of the journey towards the nearest sun and the surrounding system. It lacked the capacity to really appreciate the data it gathered, simply storing it, compressing it as best it could before transmitting it. By the time the message arrived, the probe would long since exhausted its power supply, having given its life in what its creators thought was the first attempt to explore the system of Alpha Centauri by a sentient species.

They were not wrong.

But they were not entirely correct, either.

––––––––

Cabinet Situation Room

New Delhi, India

January 14, 2120

Four years, Rajendra Giri thought as he mounted the steps down to the situation room three at a time, four years of waiting and now everything seemed to be in a hurry. Part of him at once admonished him for believing that it really was the signal they were all expecting - or at least the few people who knew about it. The past years had been nothing in comparison to the last two weeks, when the calculated time of arrival of the signal had come and gone, and the distant star had remained silent. Their receivers had listened for days, before the first scientist had said out loud what everyone thought and no one wanted to admit. The Black Dawn probe had been lost. Humanity's first attempt to reach another star had failed, and they had no idea why or how. Nor did they have any means by which they could find out. The customary investigation into the probe's production had found no flaws that should have caused it to be unable to fulfill its mission.

Rajendra had tried to tell himself that all human progress had been an uphill struggle, that every attempt at furthering the reach of mankind had been plagued by setbacks. It had been a poor comfort. Black Dawn was his child. Not only had he poured considerable time into learning about the theory, just to see if what his advisers told him might actually be possible. Simply building the station had ben a herculean effort, starting with getting it funded and keeping the funding a secret even from their own parliament. Then he had fought hard to convince the military to part with a large number of highly expensive fusion reactors. Reactor production in space was the bottleneck of all Indian ship building, and each of these reactors could have powered a freighter or half a carrier. Finally, the station had to be assembled far from the nearest human outpost, and in the middle of war to boot. All for the mere chance of shattering yet another limit to human reach. After humanity had taken to the skies and to space, it was only natural that distant stars should follow. And yet, all the hopes and dreams had been crushed by the deafening silence when the signal should have come.

Was it really so surprising, Rajendra asked himself,  that he still clung to the vain hope of success even now? After all, there were few reasons why the Prime Minister would summon his primary scientific adviser with such urgency, in the middle of the day. And a meeting in the situation room meant that things were of the utmost importance to the country. There were very few issues where his expertise and the interests of national security overlapped with critical timing. Right now, he could only think of one. The heartbeat in his ears was not just from having run through the halls to the stairs. Part of him tried to prepare him for the coming disappointment, but Rajendra couldn't not hope. He would hold onto hope until his dying day, probably. Or at least until they knew for sure what had happened to his baby.

The guard in front of the door stopped him with a raised hand. Rajendra spared the soldier barely a glance and mashed his hand on the ID panel. He was rewarded with an angry electronic beep, telling him that the system did not think he should be allowed inside. Rajendra took a calming breath and adjusted his hand slightly. The effect was the same.

Sir?, the guard made, one hand straying to his sidearm. I need you to step away from the door.

I work here, Rajendra said, studying the list of error messages on the screen next to the palm reader. Apparently, his security clearance was too low. At least the reader worked as it should, he thought. The Prime Minister called me.

Please step away from the door, the guard said, the hint of an edge in his voice. Rajendra sighed and took a few steps back, raising his hands to underscore the gesture.

I'm sure the Prime Minister could clear this up, he said.

I'm sure, the guard repeated, sounding not entirely convinced by it.

Look, Rajendra said, "it says Insufficient Security Clearance. That means the system knows me."

It also means you shouldn't be here, and that you tried to gain entrance to a restricted area, the guard said. What is your job title, Sir?

Rajendra kept his face carefully neutral. Special Scientific Adviser to the Prime Minister, he said. If this impressed the guard, he did not show it. And if you'll check the system, there should be a record of my appointment.

Just doing my job, Sir, the guard said calmly and took out his personal electronic assistant to make a call. A few seconds later, the doors opened. An aide urgently waved him in. Rajendra shot another glare at the guard even as he told himself that the man was right. He had only done his job. But in doing so he had kept Rajendra from doing his. More importantly, had kept him from satisfying his curiosity. It took Rajendra a moment to adjust to the dim light in the situation room. His eyes were drawn at once to the huge holotank in the center of the room. Inside the murky depths swam dozens of symbols. They quickly resolved to the familiar constellation of the Solar system's planets and moons, with hundreds of other symbols indicating mining stations, freighters and warships in between. It was a confusing mess, and even more confusing was why no one seemed to bother with it. Everyone was huddled around a large viewscreen at the other end of the room, blocking the picture from him. He tried for a few seconds to divine what catastrophe was taking place in the seemingly well-ordered procession of icons in the holotank, but came up empty.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the voice of Prime Minister Arun Patil sounded from the center of the group, I believe congratulations are in order.

Someone started clapping. Another pair of hands joined in, and soon the whole room was reverberating from the sound. Rajendra allowed himself the tiniest bit of hope that it might, indeed, be the long-awaited signal. Patil removed himself from the throng of people and stepped aside to let Rajendra look at the picture. His heart leapt into his throat. He stepped forward without thinking, rushing to the viewscreen, his mind trying to make sense of the image he saw. It was fairly low quality, by modern standards. Parts of it were made up by multicolored squares, showing areas where data had been corrupted. But the important parts were clear enough: a wide angle shot showed the sun on one side - and another bright star far closer than any picture of the sun should have. Because it wasn't their sun at all. A glance at the timestamp displayed at the top of the image only confirmed it. The picture had been taken in August 2115. More than four years ago.

Rajendra opened his mouth to speak, but had to swallow around the lump in his throat to get the words out.

Is that it?, he croaked. Patil nodded with a wide smile. When did we get this? Why did we only get this now?

Just a few hours ago. We had to clean up the data. I guess we missed the first few pictures because of a technical malfunction in the probe.

Transmission loss, Rajendra said numbly. He should have expected it. It was a minor miracle they had gotten something at all, given the distances involved. It was certainly the furthest a human-made space object had ever traveled, far further than the space probes of the 20th century, still hurtling through interstellar space. And it had returned usable scientific data, even though the signal itself was perhaps even more important. The probe had survived, had fulfilled its mission. By now, it would already long since have expended its power supply and gone silent, even while its data was still crossing the vast distance between the stars at merely the speed of light. Rajendra felt his knees go weak and stumbled to the nearest chair, never once looking away from the picture. Merely the speed of light, he thought and felt a silly bout of amusement bubble up. But it wasn't quite unwarranted, he told himself. They had shattered that restraint. They had opened up the way to the stars.

How much have we got?, he asked, eagerly. After the rush of the first picture, he wanted more. Already, his instincts as a scientist had awoken. Even though his background was in genetic engineering, he had always had a sense of awed curiosity about space and its wonders. Having an entire new solar system to explore was almost too much to bear.

We're still getting new data, Minister Ratha said. Rajendra looked over to the man who had replaced his replacement in the Ministry of Research, Education and Space Exploration. Most of what we have confirms what we already know about Alpha Centauri. Two planets very close to the B component, one at the inner edge of the habitable zone of B. From what we have, the latter does not have liquid water or even an atmosphere.

The computer model predicted that, Rajendra said. Ratha nodded. Still, with Earth-like gravity, we might be able to build a couple of habitation domes if we want to colonize. Another nod, without much enthusiasm. Ratha, he knew, was a strict proponent of what Rajendra had dubbed the anti-gravity-club, a group of scientists and engineers who liked the idea of colonizing space in giant habitable stations rather than getting down into planet surfaces. Even he had to admit that the engineering expertise required to build a habitation dome on an airless, waterless planet was not so much less than building a station in deep space itself, just with the added problem of landing on the surface and getting back into orbit. But Alpha Centauri Bc, as it was provisionally know, had never been a prime candidate for colonization anyway. Getting to Alpha Centauri had been the proof of concept. Now they would turn the station to other stars, stars that were also likely to have planets in the habitable zone. The possibilities seemed endless.

Rajendra noted Ratha glance up at the Prime Minister. The minister cleared his throat. Actually, he said carefully, transmission loss isn't the only reason why we had to wait several hours until we called you. Rajendra sat up slightly, looking back at the image in confusion. Someone made a noise of protest, but Patil waved him off.

He's been briefed on Blue Forest, Patil said.

Have I?, Rajendra asked, confused. He couldn't recall anything with that particular codename, and it wasn't like there had been very many projects with this level of codeword clearance in his field. Behind him, Patil chuckled.

We didn't call it that at the time, of course. The things we found on Enceladus.

Ah, Rajendra made, I see we've upgraded them to a national security issue.

Planetary security, really, Ratha said. There's been some indication that they could survive in some areas on Earth, and until we know exactly how they could or could not interact with our ecosystem, they're considered a major threat. Now it was Rajendra's turn to nod solemnly. The Indian expedition to the small moon of Saturn had come back with a curious specimen that scientists still weren't sure what to make of. Most believed that it was a form of life, but that was the extent of their agreements. That the government was considering it a top-secret issue probably did not help the scientific discourse.

We should have gone public with that long ago, Rajendra said. He himself had argued against it, when the expedition had returned with it four years ago. But that had been when they had still believed that they could make a definite statement as to its nature after a little more research. They could have sold it as one of the biggest discoveries of human history and use it as cover while Black Dawn was still an uncertain success. But then politics had happened, and now here they were.

It's just as well that we didn't, Patil said at once. Rajendra looked at him with an open question in his face. The picture we showed you is the one we will make public, but it isn't the only one we received. The probe has made a full panorama shot and transmitted it. Most of it even got here. Plus we have some more data from the other instruments that I'd like you to take a look at.

It's probably nothing, Ratha said. But still, with Blue Forest we have to take it seriously. He tapped a few icons on the tabletop and the display shifted to a magnified picture from the probe's camera. Rajendra still marveled at the fact that he was seeing the view of an alien star system when Ratha tapped another icon and focused the view on a tiny dot. The picture zoomed in further and blew the dot into a vague shape that he couldn't make much of a sense of.

Could be anything, Rajendra said. We couldn't exactly stuff the probe with the best instruments we had.

Getting the signal back was all that mattered, yes, Patil said. But it leaves us in a very awkward position, where we have an item of interest and no way to determine what it is. At least not without sending another expedition and waiting four years for a result. Rajendra shook his head slightly. There had once been a time in human history when waiting four years for new data about a tiny object in another star system would have been considered a phenomenally short time. Not anymore. The 22nd century demanded faster answers to keep up with the ever-changing world.

We don't know what it is, Ratha said, but it is a lot warmer than the background.

Asteroid, Rajendra countered. Dwarf Planet. Possibly with some remnant geological activity or tidal heating.

Shouldn't be this warm.

Earth shouldn't have such a large moon, Rajendra countered. It's curious, but I don't see the point of paying too much attention to it. At least for us. I'm sure there are people in the Space Exploration Agency who would love to take a look at it. Should be good for half a dozen papers or so, depending on what data we get.

We ran it through the gravitational model of the Alpha Centauri system, Ratha said, rubbing his chin in worry. It is in an orbit in which a Black Dawn-type station could function.

No gas giants means it can be much closer to the star, Rajendra conceded. But there are plenty of objects flying around our solar system in orbits that would be feasibly for a station. That doesn't mean they aren't natural.

We've never seen a natural object that has this kind of heat signature, Ratha said.

Natural radioactive decay, Rajendra suggested. Ratha only shook his head.

Too small for this amount of heat. It would have to be made entirely out of enriched uranium.

Patil chuckled. And wouldn't that be a sight to see. Rajendra pondered the small dot some more, staring at it as if he could summon the truth about it through sheer force of will. The unspoken implication hung in the air like a malicious spirit. Not a natural object. In the right place to be a station. It certainly made for a very attractive theory. There were dozens of problems with it, of course, but Rajendra knew when Patil wanted to believe in something. There would be very little he could do to change his mind. It didn't help that Patil's political instincts were usually spot on, and he believed that the same applied to the rest of the world, too.

You seem to have made up your mind already, he said finally.

Not at all, Ratha insisted. Patil said nothing. As I said, I don't believe it to be artificial, myself, but you have to admit that it would be a very strange coincidence. Certainly worthy of further study.

Certainly, Rajendra grunted. We should announce a second mission, maybe with international support. The secret of Black Dawn is out of the bag now, anyway.

An expedition, Patil said. It was always our intention to survey the system in detail and to see if it is feasible to establish a permanent presence there. This discovery only makes this more important.

Rajendra sighed. An international expedition, then. I'm sure the rest of the world would love to take a look at the station, too. Ours as well as whatever that thing is. Patil chuckled.

We won't announce the existence of this object just yet, but we will announce a survey expedition. Rajendra frowned.

Black Dawn Station is only big enough to accommodate probes, he said, I don't see how you'd get a ship to Alpha Centauri.

Ratha smiled thinly. Work has progressed nicely, he said. And since we know where the probe appeared relative to the threshold, we can calculate pretty well how much energy we need to send a cruiser-sized ship. According to our calculations, Black Dawn as built would be able to throw a cruiser into the outskirts of Alpha Centauri.

And by cruiser-sized you mean an actual cruiser, Rajendra said. We got away with the probe because it was so tiny. When we throw a cruiser through the hoop, people will be asking questions. Ratha shrugged.

What are they going to say, that we are hiding evidence of an alien structure in Alpha Centauri and are sending an armed expedition to deal with it? Nobody would believe that, even if it were true. Rajendra grimaced and rubbed his chin.

We can't afford to alienate the rest of the world over this. Right now we have a bit of goodwill while the other governments decide what to do about this.

I know, Patil said. But it has never been the policy of this or any previous government to disclose the results of classified research. I don't intend to start now.

Arun, Rajendra insisted, This is a mistake. Think about it. If this thing is artificial, can we really justify keeping it a secret from the rest of the world? If it isn't, what are standing to lose? We still control the only means of access to the Alpha Centauri system. It's not like we have to fear losing the spoils of our labor.

Patil frowned deeply. The question we should ask, he said carefully, is what we stand to lose if it is artificial and we give up any chance of exclusive access to the technology without even making the attempt at securing it for ourselves.

That was indeed the problem, Rajendra thought. Patil always saw everything in terms of the Great Game, the constant rivalry between the Great Powers of Earth. He didn't even care how likely it was that the object was in fact artificial. All that mattered was that it might be, and that analyzing it they could get an advantage over the rest of the world. Everything else would be secondary. Rajendra sighed.

I have nothing more to add, Sir, he said formally, stressing the last word. If Patil noticed the subtle show of disapproval, he did not show it.

It's not that we will never allow an international expedition into Alpha Centauri, Ratha said. Patil frowned slightly. But I think it is just fair that we should get the first look at it, given how we paid for everything. He shrugged, a little helpless gesture. And it probably is nothing but a curiosity. A dozen research papers or so. No reason to make an international crisis out of it.

Rajendra stared at the small dot on the tabletop and hoped for all of them that he was right.

Hasting Family Home

London, England

January 14, 2120

The first thing George felt when the PEA started beeping was a form of unbridled hatred for the entire world, the emotion distilled into its purest form, white hot and all-encompassing. Hatred for a world that never seemed to sleep, hatred for his political masters that demanded he be at their beck and call at all hours, hatred even for himself that he had trained himself so well that the soft beeping could rouse him from the deepest slumber. For a second, he reveled in it, allowing himself to succumb to that beautiful feeling. Then his brain woke up fully and restrained the urge to smash the annoying piece of electronics to pieces. He recognized this alarm instantly and felt the old hatred returning when he realized that he had already slept through an earlier alarm that had been sent with lower urgency, his subconsciousness reacting to this more critical alert. He acknowledged it with the press of a button. The beeping stopped, and the PEA happily informed him that the car would be there in a few minutes.

Like a dog responding to a whistle, he thought as he forced himself into the vertical. Next to him, his wife slept deeply, happily oblivious to the fact that somewhere, the world was burning and George would somehow have to make sense of it. For a moment, he envied her. It wasn't that he liked being ignorant of the state of the world. In fact, he had taken this job at MI6 specifically because he liked to know things most people didn't. But there was something to be said for learning about it in the morning update of your newsfeed rather than a confused meeting in a conference room in the middle of the night or a cryptic message on your PEA demanding answers to questions you never knew would ever be asked of you.

The face in the bathroom mirror smiled back a little sardonically. No, of course he loved this. He could have switched into the private sector, went into business intelligence. Much better pay and more reasonable hours. Or, if he really wanted to be an investigator, look into journalism. After all, he had spent years perfecting the art of breaking down complex topics into easily digestible memos that someone could read and understand in the time it took them to ride the elevator in Government Tower to the top floor. He wouldn't be in this job if he didn't love the idea of helping to run the country and having a front row seat at the Great Game being played in the world. The impossible hours were just something that came with the job. In fact, they made it feel that little bit more important. Somewhere, the world was burning, and the men and women directing the Empire relied on him to tell them why, as soon as humanly possible.

He collected a small cup of hot tea from the machine in the kitchen and took a last look in the bedroom where little Elizabeth still slept the sleep of the righteous. Outside the window, the lights of London beckoned. The clock on his PEA showed 3 am when he stepped out through the deserted lobby of his apartment building. Outside, a man waited next to a government car, holding open the door for him. Yes, George thought to himself, this was what made the job exciting. Few people got drivers these days. Mostly people who needed a certain level of protection. No doubt his driver knew what to do if they were ever attacked on the road. His posture clearly betrayed his military background.

To his surprise, George found someone already waiting inside the car. He took a certain level of comfort out of the fact that the stranger looked even more bedraggled than he did, his graying hair sticking out in odd angles, and deep rings under his eyes showing that he had altogether rather less sleep than he would have liked. It was bad night for a lot of people, no doubt. The car took off with speed, their driver apparently having orders to deliver them as quickly as possible, comfort of ride be damned. Through the thick soundproofing, George could hear the dulled howl of a siren. Not that it was really needed. Traffic was light.

So, the stranger said, are you going to tell me what is going on? He nodded towards the driver. Because he won't.

He can't, more likely, George said easily. The driver said nothing.

But you can, right?, his companion said with an odd note of hope in his voice, They called me in the middle of the night, didn't say why. Just that the Council had a need of my expertise. Five minutes later, he damn near broke down my door.

George nodded solemnly, sipping his tea. "I know the feeling. I call these days Tuesday."

Funny, the stranger said without a hint of mirth. But as I tried to explain to him, he said with another dismissive wave towards the silent driver, it would help tremendously if I knew why I was summoned, so I can prepare.

Most people know perfectly well why the Council of Prime Ministers would summon them, George said dryly. They have a fairly narrow set of interests.

I'm a theoretical physicist, the stranger said simply. My only contacts with politics are grant requests and polling stations. I don't think the Council wants to discuss the funding of my institute in the middle of the night.

George mustered him with newfound interest, his mind already trying to piece this new information in. He said nothing and took a look at his aggregated newsfeed, trying to spot something that would require someone with this particular specialization. After a minute or two, he came up empty. The only item on the priority intelligence warning list was for signal intelligence, and he doubted that had anything to do with their nightly drive. It was disturbing to see that evidently not even his own service had any idea what the big crisis they were supposed to solve might be. There would be questions about that, and the answers would not be popular.

I have to admit that don't often work with people in your field, he said finally.

Ah, the man said with a wry smile, and who do you work with?

Particle physicists, mostly, these days, George shot back. The odd nuclear fellow. Cryptologists. Genetic engineers. Aeronautical engineers. That sort of thing. The scientist frowned.

I'm sorry, he said carefully, who did you say you work for again?

Technically, that's classified, and I'd have to report that you even asked, George said with a thin smile. The man paled slightly, looking at George with a little worry in his face. No doubt, his mind was running through everything he had ever done that might warrant the attention of the intelligence community. Theoretical physicists didn't often get background checked.

I...is this about the letter?, he said finally. George fought down his grin.

What letter?, he said coldly, pulling out his PEA to recheck the news. The signal intelligence bulletin had been upgraded to highest priority. He frowned slightly, making a mental note to check it as soon as he was done with the Council. It would just be his luck that the world would develop not just one but two major crisis in a day. The scientist sighed.

During the war, he said. I signed a letter urging the government to show restraint and negotiate with the Russians rather than going to war. George regarded him over the top of his PEA, quickly navigating into the database of MI5. A short search later he had what he wanted. Of course the letter had been logged with the lowest possible priority, and a very cursory search had revealed no obvious connections to any foreign intelligence services trying to create a peace movement out of whole cloth. As far as MI5 was concerned, that was the end of it, and as far as George was concerned it didn't matter anyway. But now he had a name. Only one physicist on the list.

This isn't about the letter, James Watershed said when George remained quiet for a while, sounding none too pleased about it.

No, George said.

Then I really haven't the foggiest notion, Watershed said.

I believe you do, George said. Have you ever done any work even remotely connected to nuclear weapons?

No, Watershed said aghast, I'm a member of the Nuclear Disarmament Society, for heaven's sake!

Particle Weaponry? Direct Energy Weapons?

Certainly not, Watershed said.

Quantum Entanglement or Computing?

No, Watershed said with a frown. I work mostly in quantum field theory.

Wormholes, George said. Watershed groaned.

Everyone always comes with the wormholes, he said miserably. We do work on other topics, you know? String Theory. Quantum gravity. Wormholes aren't even really part of Field Theory!

I see, George said simply. And none of this has any appreciable military value?

It's fundamental research, Watershed said, exasperated as if he had had this argument a hundred times before. We don't care about applications. We just want to understand it. He shrugged. If someone builds an FTL drive out of it, that's just an added bonus.

George perked up. And you could build an FTL drive out of it?, he asked. Watershed sighed deeply.

I mean it when I say we don't really care about applications, he said carefully. Yes, some of the equations can be solved in a way that makes faster than light travel possible. But you have to understand, we are talking about solutions that assume infinite energy or the manipulation of particles we can barely detect. So I doubt you could build anything out of it. George frowned. There really didn't seem to be a reason why the good doctor should accompany him. Maybe there had been a mistake, and there was a different Doctor Watershed somewhere, sleeping soundly while the country needed his or her service.

The PEA beeped an urgent alert just as they pulled up in the underground garage of Government Tower. He took a look at it and frowned deeply. So signals had no idea where the signal was coming from. That smelled like a cockup in the intelligence sharing department. Just what he needed.

Bad news, I take it?, Watershed said in the elevator.

Classified, George grunted, but bad news. Probably.

Connected to the reason I'm here?, Watershed said.

I don't see how, George said. We've got a signal we don't know the source of.

Awkward, Watershed said dryly. George felt the edge of his mouth twitch in annoyance.

Just a computer glitch, probably, he said. The George Hasting in the mirror frowned back at him. A computer glitch should have been ruled out the moment someone took a look at it and manually compared the vector of the signal intercept with the position of all known ships in the solar system. Somewhere along the vector they should have found their candidate. Something stirred in the back of his mind, drawing attention to something he had taken for granted in his assumptions. Almost on reflex, he hit the emergency stop. The elevator ground to a halt halfway up the tower. Watershed looked at him curiously.

If I checked your bibliography, would I find something related to FTL travel?, he asked simply. The reaction on Watershed's face was most telling.